Free Fall
by rika08
Summary: AU-Hingham Bridge sequence.
1. Chapter 1

The destruction of Hingham Bridge had been ordered at dawn. The knowledge had not escaped Elizabeth's mind as she and her elder sister had ridden across to rescue Lydia. They had every intention of return prior to its detonation with or without their sister. She had not intended to ride across Hingham Bridge at the precise moment that Charles Bingley gave the order to detonate the bridge.  
The sound of the explosion surpassed any such sounds Elizabeth had ever heard in the course of her life, though its magnitude quickly deafened her. The intensity of the flame singed her exposed flesh, causing her to turn away from them. The force of the blast threw her from her horse and into a dark abyss.  
Elizabeth came to, struggling to breath. Her chest heaved unsteadily as the world danced around her. Harsh coughs rattled her chest. Her entire body felt heavy and pained as she turned to view her surroundings. What remained of the bridge around her lay in large blocks and burning powder. But there was no sign of Darcy around her. She turned her head toward the Hertfordshire district. Through the dizzying turns of her own disorientation, Lizzy managed to make out Mr. Darcy's figure some few yards behind her. The force of the blast had thrown him from Lizzy's horse a greater distance than it had thrown herself. His body lay prone against the ground, his face unseen by her unsteady eyes, and completely motionless.  
Fearful panic spurred Elizabeth into motion. With great pains, she forced her body prone on the bridge before drawing herself onto her knees. Her chest heaved once more as the dust in the air aggravated her bruised lungs, bringing out a pain coughing fit. Yet through her fit, Elizabeth crawled the short distance to Darcy's side. Her hands quickly grabbed hold of his shoulder, jostling him. Her other hand came to the came of his head as she peered over to view his face. Dust, dirt, and blood marred the once stern mans face. Yet despite Elizabeth's touch, the man remained unconscious.  
Elizabeth took a stronger grasp on Darcy's arm and lifted him from the ground. She struggled a moment as she turned him turned her, momentarily laying him against her own body. Her right arm cradled his head as she eased him onto his back. Not once did he stir or show any signs of conscious. Her hands came to his face as she searched for any signs of life.  
"Mr. Darcy?" she whispered. She carefully shook his head, but to no avail. Fear coursed through her as she tried to arouse Darcy. Tears threatened to blind her vision as panicked gasps escaped her.  
She could not lose him not. She could not bare to lose the man she so desperately loved. She had been a fool to think herself indifferent to him, to think herself untouched by his gesture toward her safety and that of her family. In desperation, she lowered her head to the mans chest, praying to God she might be blessed to hear the steady beating of his heart, only to hear nothing but the breaking of her own. She neither felt, nor heard, the sound of his beating heart. She pushed against his chest, as if the action would awaken him. A mournful sob escaped her lips as Elizabeth looked up from Mr. Darcy, desperately searching for help from someone. But through the clearing cloud she could see no one and found no voice to call out with.  
She sought his heart beat once more, but found nothing. Defeated, she dejectedly clutched his shoulders. Tears fell from her eyes and rolled seamlessly down her face. She gently took to running her fingers through his hair, as if to sooth him in his passing- or perhaps herself.  
Elizabeth brought herself closer toward Mr. Darcy's face, her voice barely above a shattered whisper. "The very first moment I beheld you, my heart was irrevocably gone." She closed her eyes tight as more tears fell from them. She pressed her lips against his, parting with a man she never deserved, nor could never prove otherwise. Lizzy rose from his lips and laid her head against his chest, releasing all her sorrow. She clung to Darcy as she sobbed. Her pride and her prejudice toward him had brought him out into the battlefield in hope of forgetting his love for her. Her plight for Lydia had pitted him against Wickham, taking up his precious time in retreating to safety. She had driven him to this, to death. It was as if she had driven her blade through his very heart and forced him to part from this world.  
Movement behind her broke her mourning, causing Elizabeth to lift her face from Darcy's chest. A strong grasp caught her by the ankle. She quickly cast a look behind her and found herself pitted against a lone unmentionable. In the time of the living, the unmentionable appeared to have been a man of consequence by the sight of his clothes. Not the simple breeches and shoes, but fine linen clothe of London. The unmentionable had made quite a journey since the city fell. His hair was ratted and partial gaps had been removed. His skin was a sickly ashen color, marred with blood, and rotting flesh. In the detonation, its legs had been blown off, leaving ragged stumps in their place.  
Elizabeth pitted herself between the unmentionable and Darcy's body. She could not atone for her mistakes, but she could certainly ensure that nothing would dare desecrate Darcy's body whilst she protected it. Her hand quickly sought the hard grip of her sword, only to find in horror, that her scabbard was empty. Her eyes searched frantically for her weapon, but couldn't not find it within her sight. Had she lost it in the explosion of the bridge? It mattered not, for the unmentionable took hold of her ankle with its second hand. with nothing more than her own strength, Elizabeth drove her free foot into the unmentionables face. for a moment, it seemed stunned by the action, but quickly resumed trying to get at her. Elizabeth repeated her action, only succeeding in tearing away the flesh at its face. The unmentionable pawed at her legs, trying to bring itself closer to her, so that it might feast upon her. Elizabeth brought her knees up to her chest and wedged her foot flat against the unmentionables. With a grunting cry, she launched the creature from her leg, and sent it rolling toward the remains of the bridge.  
Elizabeth caught her breath and rose from the ground. Her body ached at her movements, but the pain in her heart was far more encompassing to her attention. Tears once more blurred her vision as she stalked toward the creature. Her boots echoed across the stone remains, sending clutters of rock and debris in every direction. The unmentionable lifted its pawing hands toward her, moaning with an insatiable hunger to tear into her flesh. Elizabeth sniffed with distain and brought the heel of her boot crashing into the unmentionables skull. The unmentionable grabbed her ankle and Elizabeth stomped down upon its head again. Its grip still remained. With a cry of anguish, Elizabeth brought her foot down one last time, making contact directly on its nose. The decaying bone gave way under her strength, rendering the unmentionable dealt with. It collapsed against the stone, forever silent.  
Elizabeth stood planted where she was. Her chest heaved as she dissolved into anguished sobs once more. Her strength was nearly entirely spent in her journeys and battle, but there was much more sapping away the little strength she retained. She lurched her foot out, kicking the unmentionables body. It moved hardly a centimeter from her kick, still clutching her ankle.  
"Lizzy!" came the echoing call of Jane's voice.  
Elizabeth turned her attention toward Hertfordshire, where the encampment, and Jane, were situated. She could make out Jane's familiar figure alongside Mr. Bingley at the entrance. She could not see Lydia, but she had every hope her youngest sister had crossed to safety.  
There was nothing more to be done. The bridge had been destroyed, cutting off the unmentionables from her home. Her sisters were now safe from immediate danger. And there was nothing she could to save Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth brushed the tears from her face and took a deep breath. She would always mourn his loss, but she was first and foremost a warrior. She must now act as one.  
"Lizzy!"  
"Here! Jan!" answered Elizabeth. She tugged at her ankle in hopes of releasing it from the unmentionables grasp, when a section of bridge detached itself from beneath the unmentionables body. Its stubs dangled over the edge, hovering precariously.  
A reverberating sound of rock and stone crumbling surrounded Elizabeth. Piece by piece, the bridge crumbled beneath the undead. Its body slid across the tumbling rocks, toward the canal. Its grip on Elizabeth was strong and held, pulling her with it. Elizabeth tumbled onto her back as the undead's corpse dragged her toward the crumbling edge. She kicked at its hand, attempting to free her ankle, but its grip was too strong. She clawed at the stone, dragging lines of dust and rock with her, but nothing to save herself. As the corpse tumbled over the ledge, its weight increased its drop, nearly tearing Lizzy off with it. Her feet first felt the emptiness of the air, quickly followed by her legs, and finally her hips. In one last attempt to save herself, Lizzy grasped hold of a fractured stone within the bridge, wedging her fingers as far as she could. The act was just enough to cease her descent into the canal. Her body came to a sudden halt, causing further strain on her stretched muscles. The sudden stop invoked a startled gasp from Lizzy. It had kept her level with the bridge, but she now hung precariously by her grasp.  
For a moment, Lizzy hung, unable to bring herself to move her body. Her chest stuttered as she tried to calm her breathing down. She closed her mouth and forced herself to breathe through her nose. A technique she had learned many years ago. For though she hung several fathoms above the canal, she was still an abled body. During the slid over, her left leg and side had slid across an exposed steel beam, used in the bridges construction. The jagged beam had cut through the fabric of her clothes and into her flesh. The slow trickle of blood and the ache of her injured body were forcefully banished from Elizabeth's mind.  
Elizabeth first attempted to bring her freed leg up to the ledge. She carefully swung her leg to and fro, before attempting to lift it. But the added weight of the corpse dangling from her ankle altered the mechanics of her body too much for Lizzy to correctly achieve her goal. With great disdain, Lizzy lowered her leg with a groan of defeat.  
"Lizzy!" Jane cried frantically, rushing across the bridge. Bingley followed alongside her.  
"Jane!" answered Elizabeth. "Help me!"  
Elizabeth locked her elbows in place to keep as much of her upper body above the ledge as possible. The steel beam was situated just beside her extended abdomen. With every movement, Lizzy could feel the cold metal scraping across her flesh, etching into her body with every wayward motion of her body. The sharp edges of the stones easily cut through the material and tore into her hands and waist. Elizabeth winced as she struggled her keep herself upright. Her muscles screamed for release and shook from the stress, but she continued not to yield. She swung her leg, trying to get it back up, but her actions caused the corpse to swing from her other leg, altering the weight of her body. The blood soaking her gloves seeped onto the rock, loosening her grasp. Her arms shook in strain. "Jane! Hurry!"  
"Hang on Lizzy!" cried Jane.  
Elizabeth locked her jaw and focused her resolve. She would never be able to hold herself much longer with the corpse still hanging by her foot. Lizzy lifted her foot and struck the arm of the corpse. The body swung from the force, tipping Lizzy's side further against the beam. Lizzy sucked a sharp breath, but refused to cry out. She struck it again and again. She peeled away bits of rotten flesh and decaying muscles Lizzy bit her lip and kicked one final time. The force tore the remains of her arm from the body and sent it plunging into the canal below.  
The release of weight swung Lizzy's body, but it was a joyous result. Elizabeth gave a startled laugh, relishing in the free motion of her leg. She drew one leg up onto the ledge and heaved herself up. She knelt there on the ledge, breathing deeply. Sweat tumbled down her exhausted face while blood seemed to flow from everywhere else.  
"Elizabeth?" called a weary voice.  
Elizabeth quickly brought her head up. Her eyes quickly fell upon those of Mr. Darcy's. He lay upon the ground, but his eyes were upon her. He had survive! Joy suddenly filled Elizabeth so, that she could not check her spreading smile. "Mr. Darcy."  
With a heart stopped crack, the ledge suddenly trembled beneath Elizabeth. With great swiftness, the ledge beneath her body gave way. So sudden did it occur, that Lizzy only managed a slight gasp as she plummeted down into the canal below.


	2. Chapter 2

"No!" cried Darcy as Elizabeth vanished from his sight. He dragged his battlewearied body to the edge of the bridge just in time to see her vanish beneath the water. His heart thundered his chest. Darcy had never felt such fear or panic rising within him before. Not even when Wickham was so close to ending his life. Nothing compared to this moment, when Elizabeth plunged beneath the surface of the canal. She had fallen. Elizabeth had fallen into the canal where hundreds of unmentionables now resided and continued to throw themselves into.  
"Lizzy!" came Jane's frantic cry as she and Bingley joined him at the bridges edge. "Oh god!"  
"Can you see her?" asked Bingley.  
Darcy shook his head. "She sunk beneath the surface."  
Jan'es chest heaved as her breathing quickened. "Lizzy can't swim. Her hands quickly flew to her coat, making short work of her buttons.  
"Miss Bennet, what are you doing?" demanded Bingley.  
"I will not leave Lizzy to die!" cried Jane. Tears welled within her eyes.  
Darcy all but tore his overcoat from his body, tossing it from him. He removed his Katana from his waist and set it aside. "Charles, get a rope!" He leapt off the bridge and plummeted toward the canal, Bingley's cry echoing as he struck the surface.  
The water frigid from the early morning hours, nearly sapping all of Darcy's strength. He plummeted several meters beneath the surface, until he slowed. For a moment, he floated seamlessly within the water. He was surrounded by hundreds of unmentionables. Some made the pointless attempt to rise toward the surface, whilst others seemed to have met their demise from the impact. If such impact could kill the undead, then Elizabeth could not have fared much better.  
Darcy quickly focused his attention of searching for Elizabeth. He kicked out his legs, as he had done all his life swimming within the waters of Pemberly, driving himself deeper into the canal. Though the water obscured his vision, Darcy could make out the floating carcasses of the undead. A fair few tried to grasp hold of him and bring him to join their legion, but Darcy easily managed to outwit them.  
His lungs began to ache and he would soon need to surface and regain his breath. He pushed his body through the water, deeper toward the bottom of the canal. The light seemed to lessen the further down he went. And then he saw her.  
Through the darkness of the canal, Darcy made out the familiar figure of Elizabeth some distance from him. A new source of energy flooded Darcy as he kicked forcefully toward her. He swam with as much force as he could, driving himself toward her. She floated aimlessly within the canal, sending fear coursing through Darcy. He came up underneath her, catching her around the waist. Her overcoat had been removed, no doubt weighing her down as she made an attempt to resurface. Her blouse was torn and the tint of blood lingered in the water around her. Her eyes were closed, mimicking sleep within the water. Despite propriety, Darcy kicked for the surface, holding Elizabeth close to him.  
Darcy pushed his body to its limits. Years had passed since he had done such, but he could do no less when it came to Elizabeth's safety. HIs lungs yearned for air as he swam toward the surface. Elizabeth's body slowed his progression up, but Darcy didn't falter. He felt his vision darkening, blurring his surroundings even as he rose toward the surface. His senses were dulling as he started to lose consciousness.  
Suddenly the water vanished above him as he broke the surface. Darcy gasped for breath as his head broke the surface. the frigid air filled his body, quickly igniting his eyesight to the world around him. He floated atop the surface for a moment, steadying his breathing, all the while maintaining his grasp of Elizabeth. Her head was titled up against his shoulder, but there was no sign of life within. Though her eyes were closed and she appeared to be the physical resemblance of sleep, Darcy knew well enough that was not the case. He struck out his arm, pulling himself along the surface toward the wall of the canal.  
What unmentionables that remained alive on the surface, were easily avoided. Darcy had plenty of warning to adjust his direction and keep Elizabeth and himself form their reach. The chill of the water and air stung like knives through his muscles, but Darcy pushed on. He took hold of the stone ledge and pulled himself against it. With the greatest care, he eased Elizabeth onto the ledge before pulling himself out of the water.  
"Miss Bennet?" he asked. Mr. Darcy carefully laid Elizabeth onto her back. Her skin was cold to his touch, her lips tinged with a bluish hue. Darcy brushed the wet locks from her face and bent to hear her heart. His own picked up at the silence. Darcy quickly straightened himself and placed his hands over her heart. Propriety be damned, Darcy would take the consequences upon himself if it meant Elizabeth would live. He pushed against her chest, where he theorized her heart was situated. Again and again her pushed in hopes that she would awaken, but it was all for naught. In desperation, he pressed his lips to hers and pushed air into her body.  
Not two seconds pass did life suddenly rekindled within Elizabeth. Her body convulsed and turned from. Elizabeth coughed harshly, spewing the canal water from her lungs. Her jaw shivered as she took her first breath. She coughed and choked on air for several moments before her breathing finally settled enough. Still gasping, she returned to her back, looking up at Darcy. Her deep eyes opened to meet his gaze. Her voice was hoarse and weak, but it was still a great relief to hear her whisper, "Mr. Darcy."  
"Miss Bennet." replied Darcy. "We must return you to your sister. Are you able to move?"  
Elizabeth nodded, thought Darcy was unsure of her understanding what it required of her. but to her credit, Elizabeth did her all to rise. It was only then that she seemed to remember the painful state of her body. As her body rose from the cold stone, Elizabeth cried out in anguish, nearly toppling into Darcy. Darcy steadied her upright within an instant. He noticed how her hands seemed to focus on her side. His hands on top of hers, coming back with her blood.  
"You need a physician." said Darcy. Knocking propriety into the wind once more, Darcy carefully lifted Elizabeth into his arms. Again Lizzy cried in pain, but she soon clenched her jaw to silence herself. Her eyes soon closed as he started moving. Every movement seemed to cause her horrific amounts of pain. He noted the pain flaring within his own body, focusing in his chest, but he pushed it aside until Elizabeth was safe.  
"Charles!" called Darcy as he approached the remnants of Hingham Bridge.  
From above, Bingley's head appeared from behind the stone. "Darcy!"  
Jane's face soon joined his. "Lizzy!"  
"I'm afraid Miss Bennet has been injured." informed Darcy. "She required a physician immediately."  
With a nod, Bingley momentarily disappeared, only to return a few seconds later. He tossed a cord of rope over the ledge. It tumbled down the air, unraveling as it went, until it struck the ground.  
Darcy returned his attention to Elizabeth, who had gone uneasily still in his arms. Her eyes remained closed, but the look of pain seemed to have disappeared. "Can you stand, Miss Bennet?"  
Elizabeth's eyes partially opened to meet his. "I shall."  
"It will be but a moment." informed he. He eased her toward the ground until her boots touched. Darcy watched with a keen eye as Elizabeth tested her own ability to take up her weight. She stood a full four seconds before her weak leg gave way and Darcy caught her. Lizzy leaned her weight against the bridge. Darcy could see what little strength Elizabeth seemed to have. Though her eyes were closed once more, Darcy sensed she was doing all in her power to remain upright. At any moment she could easily fall unconscious. He needed work quickly before it failed her. When Darcy was certain Elizabeth could stand without his aid, he quickly took the rope in his hands.  
Darcy worked quickly, spinning two small loops into the rope. He took the remains and brought them around Elizabeth's waist. He secured it tightly, though not enough to further aggravate her wounds. Elizabeth seemed to sense what Darcy was about and without opened her eyes, she grasped hold of the smaller loops that were located near her head. She slid her wrists into the loops and twisted them around, ensuring her grip would not slip if she fell unconscious.  
"Are you ready?" inquired Darcy.  
"I am." answered Elizabeth. Her eyes opened partially once more and her face lifted to watch her ascent.  
With a swift tug, Darcy removed himself form Elizabeth's side as the rope was lifted along the wall of the bridge. His eyes remained on Lizzy's rising form, watching for signs of distress. Yet despite Elizabeth's circumstances, she retained her strength, completing the journey up the bridge wall. But it was not until Darcy witness Elizabeth's body vanishing over the edge of the bridge, that his nerves settled slightly.  
Darcy waited hardly any time before the rope returned and he secured himself within it confines. A swift tug was all that was needed before he found himself rising above the canal. As Darcy rose toward safety, his thoughts could not be contained. How many acts of impropriety had he acted upon to save her life? If any had witnessed his actions, Elizabeth would be forever tied to him. The thought gave Darcy both pleasure and distress. He respected-he loved- Elizabeth far too much to cause her such distress. If no one had witnessed his action, then by all account, Elizabeth's honor was still intact. She need never know of the actions he took to save her.  
"Darcy!" called Bingley, pulling Darcy from the doubled edge sword of his thoughts.


	3. Chapter 3

Bingley is at the bridges edge by the time Darcy reaches the top. He takes hold of his friends wrist and allows himself to be pulled over the stone edge. But it is only once his boots touch the stone and he makes the attempt to straighten his body, that his own personal injuries manifest themselves. No sooner had Darcy straightened himself and look to Bingley, than his entire chest seemed to cry out with painful protests. Darcy found himself doubled over in agony, bracing himself against the bridge, almost identically to Elizabeth not long ago. His breath came in short, pained, gasps as he attempted to wait through it.  
"Darcy" cried Bingley, moving to provide Darcy aid.  
Darcy lifted a hand, placating Bingley's outburst. "Relax, Bingley, nothing more than a few bruised ribs."  
Bingley neither looked convinced nor placated by Darcy's words. "Bollocks man. You can hardly catch your breath."  
Darcy opened his mouth to rebuttal, but an unexpected weight shift aggravated his battered ribs, provoking a pained grunt from the man instead.  
"Let's get you off your feet old man." persuaded Bingley.  
The pain was far too much for Darcy to put up much resistance, which both gratified and concerned Bingley. He guided his friend from the battered bridge, toward an unoccupied canvas tent. Most were occupied for planning stations, wound treatment, and mortuary. Bingley located an unoccupied tent a short distance from the bridge, which was well and good, as Darcy found himself hardly capable of remaining on his feet for much longer.  
Try as he might to keep his own weight under his feet, Darcy found it beyond difficult. Every step made jostled his ribs, sending bouts of pain coursing through his body. By the time Bingley and Darcy entered the canvas tent, Darcy's face glistened with perspiration from the short distance. Bingley eased Darcy down onto the edge of the camp bed. It was hardly more than a bolt of canvas stretched between a series of crossed limbs of wood.  
"In your state, Darce, I am amazed you had the strength to retrieved Miss Elizabeth." commented Bingley.  
Darcy gave a pained laugh in return. "I find myself question that very thought, Bingley."  
"Is there anything I can get you?" offered Bingley.  
Darcy shook his head. "No, Bingley, thank you. You'd best see to the troops."  
Bingley nodded and made his leave. "That I shall. Rest, my friend."  
Darcy watched as Bingley made his leave, closing the canvas flap behind him. Now alone, Darcy eased his battered body forward, mindful of the likelihood he'd bruised-or even broken- his ribs. Though the movement jostled him slightly, the pain was nothing for than a slight ache. He propped his chin atop his hands as his thoughts began to wander.  
Without an occupation for his mind and body, Darcy found himself aimlessly awaiting the physicians arrival. It seemed only natural that his thoughts turned to Elizabeth Bennet. To Hingham Bridge. Had he heard her correctly? Had she truly said such words to him on the bridge? Was his mind fabricating such sweet lies to appease his troubled mind? He had already made a grave assumption of presuming to know her feelings, which had resulted in the deepest anguish he had felt in a great while. That alone had driven him to seek solace in combat, turning away from his responsibilities to his sister. He could not make the same mistake in presuming Miss Elizabeth's feelings, but he was unsure he could remain ignorant either.  
"Colonel Darcy." called a voice, severing Darcy's train of though.  
"Yes." called he in return.  
The canvas flap opened and the regiment physician entered. Darcy recognized the man, but his name escaped his thoughts at present. He was a tall man, neither too young nor too old of his profession. He made quick stride in approaching Darcy's side. He quickly set to work, moving his hands along Darcy's chest. Darcy gathered that Bingley had forewarned the man of Darcy's possible injuries. Sure enough, the physician soon located a very tender place on Darcy's body. Darcy's back immediately straightened and his jaw clenched shut. Down and down the physician prodded, until he reached the final rib. in total, the man had found four separate tender places along Darcy's chest.  
"Nothing more than bruising sir." explained the physician. "Though I suspect it feels worse."  
Darcy gave a stern nod. "Indeed."  
"Under normal circumstances, I would recommend the patient limiting their daily activities." the physician began.  
"I do not have that luxury." replied Darcy.  
"No indeed. Which is why I offer laudanum for the pain and your word that you won't intentionally worsen your condition, Colonel." informed the physician.  
"I cannot afford to take anything that will compromise my ability to slay the undead." stated Darcy.  
The physician said nothing, but diverted his attention to Darcy's skull. In all the commotion of his ribs, Darcy had noticed nothing in the way of pain until the physician touched his temple, eliciting a wince from the Colonel. "Any you had any dizziness sir?"  
"No."  
The physician nodded, concluding his examination. "Nothing that rest will cure. You have faired far better than most, sir."  
Darcy paused but a moment. "What of the Miss Bennet's?"  
"The young one merely suffers exhaustion." began the physician. "The second eldest, she did not fair as well as her sisters. I suspect it will be some time before her wounds heal completely. I suspect no sooner than four months will pass before she will be capable of hold her sword again, much less vanquish the undead." With nothing more, the physician took his leave of Darcy and returned to the battlefield.  
The news was devastating to hear. Darcy could scarcely comprehend the limitation of being unable to vanquish the undead, but to be without his weapon for such a duration. To some it would not seem so unreasonable, but to those who were bred for battle, who trained for years under the strictest instructions in the art of war, it could be compared to a sentence worse than death. Darcy could hardly fathom how Elizabeth had taken such news.  
Unable to remain within the tent, Darcy rose to his feet, mindful at the pain of his ribs, and quickly strode outside. Many of the men remained at their stations or continued removing fallen soldiers into the morticians tent. Darcy moved through the camp, taking note of the condition of the soldiers and the sounds from the canal. He wandered through the camp in search of Bingley. He could not allow his mind to further torment itself by being without occupation.  
"Darcy!"  
Darcy turned to see Bingley approach from the bridge. Darcy noted his coat and scabbard in Bingley's possession. "Bingley."  
"I was under the impression that one's body required time and rest to recover." informed Bingley.  
"Both of which there is no time for." replied Darcy. He retrieved his katana from Bingley and secured it to his body. He donned his coat and straightened his appearance. "I came to inquire after the Miss Bennet's."  
"I'm afraid you've only just missed their departure, Darcy." informed Bingley. "I watched them depart for Rosing's Park not a few minutes ago."  
Darcy frowned at the information. "Rosing's Park? Has Longbourn fallen."  
Bingley shook his head. "No, no. Prior to Miss Bennet's and Miss Elizabeth's departure, Lady Catherine collected their family and took them to Rosing's Park. Very gracious of her."  
"Yes, very gracious indeed." Darcy admitted. He could not fathom what had possessed his aunt to act in such a way. Though Collins boasted of Lady Catherine's Christian generosity, Darcy knew better. If his aunt had brought them into her home, then there must have been a reason.  
"Darcy, are you well?" inquired Bingley with a concerned frowned.  
Darcy quickly regained his thoughts. "I am, yes."  
Bingley watched his friend for a moment longer before pressing on. "Well, the canal seems to be holding for the time being."  
Darcy turned toward the tattered remains of Hingham Bridge. "Indeed. Unfortunately it is impossible to tell how long it will last."  
Bingley clasped Darcy's by the shoulder. "For now, it is enough."  
Darcy nodded, taking in the sight before. As the sun rose higher into the sky, Darcy had an exceptional view of the horde of London and Saint Lazarus unmentionables trapped within the limitations of the canal. Several made feeble attempts to cross, sinking beneath the surface. Others seemed finally die off, floating face down in the water. For the time being, it would hold, it would protect the living from them. It would by them time.  
"Charles, there is something I must speak with you about." began Darcy.  
Bingley turned to his friend. "You sound rather grave, for someone who saved a young woman's life today, Darcy."  
"I have also injured one, as well as yourself." he continued. "I've done you a great wrong, by interfering with your feelings toward Miss Jane Bennet. It was neither my place to determine who should make you happy. It was an arrogant and faulty assumption of your affections and Miss Bennet's. It was wrong of me to intervene and I apologize."  
Bingley was silent following Darcy's confession. So uncharacteristically so, that Darcy questioned whether Bingley has, indeed, heard his confession. "You spoke of Miss Bennet's affection."  
"I did." confirmed Darcy.  
Bingley's retribution was swift, and unforeseen. Darcy had known Bingley to be a pleasant man, eager to please everyone he met, and make no swift judgement upon them. He was never easily angered, nor showed any sign of a dangerous temper. Darcy found, however, that Bingley did have a breaking point toward his cheer. Darcy found himself sent to the earth with m ore force than he thought possible. His impact jarred his ribs, but he found his breathing remained intact.  
Darcy rubbed his jaw, finding a small trail of blood originating from a fresh wound on his lip. He looked up at Bingley's looming figure. Whatever anger Bingley had in his features quickly subsided.  
"You admit that you were in the wrong?" inquired Bingley.  
Darcy gave a small nodded. "Utterly and completely."  
Bingley nodded in turn and extended his hand to Darcy. "I'll ask you not to interfere in my life without my permission."  
Darcy smiled and grasped Bingley's proffered hand. He rose back to his feet and looked at his friend. "Then, perhaps I may offer advice?"  
Bingley arched one of his brows. "Oh?"  
"Enough time has been wasted, Bingley. If your feelings for Miss Bennet remain, do not waste it further." explained Darcy.  
The smile that came across Bingley's face, was one that Darcy had recognized. It was of a man in the deepest of love. One that he, himself, was not likely to ever hold.


	4. Chapter 4

Though the horde of undead had been delayed to a remarkable slow pace, Darcy and Bingley found that their presence at the bridge was needed for some time. THough both gentlmen would have like nothing more than to travel to Rosing's Park, it was just under a fortnight before they were able to plan their departure. Prior to that, their time was spent on patrol of the canal, ensuring that the undead could not escape the thirty fathome break between the land. Training new patroling regiments, and ending those roaming undead that emerged from the earth. Once their time slowly became their own, the idea of traveling to Kent entered their discussion. Darcy was needed to give his report of the canal's progress to Lady Catheirne, as she was a depended line of defence for the kingdom.  
Several days prior to their depature, an express rider rode inot the camp, searching for Darcy. At the time of his arrival, Darcy anf Bingley had gathered several other Captains, those that would oversee the canal for the next few weeks, traiing them in the patrol locations and known troubled spots of their posts. A new leftanant quickly entered through the open canvas with the espress rider following him.  
"Pardon the interuption, Colonel Darcy, but an express' just come for you from Kent." said the leftentant.  
Darcy's attention drew form the map to the express rider. He recognized the attire of a Black Gaurd rider. The rider quickly dispatched his missive and departed. Darcy eyed the letter and discovered his sisters writing. Darcy made quick work of the ground routine and canal patrol, beofre making his excuses and departed the tent not long after, seeking solitude.  
He moved swiftly through the camp, avoiding the working soldiers, until he found a partially secluded grove not unseen by scouts. He tore the seel with much more force than neccessary. He unfolded the missive and foudn that his sisters writing only adressed the misiive, but its contents were written by another hand entirely.

 _Mister Darcy,_

 _I am aware this breaks all laws of propriety in writing this missive to you, and I beg your forgiveness in the matter, but I ask that you do not cast this aside for you may be the last hope of my family._  
 _You will recall, nearly a fortnight ago, the destruction of Hingham Bridge, in which my sister Elizabeth fell into the canal after the bridge collapsed beneath her. You retrieved her from the water and brought her to safety, where the regiment physician tended to her wounds. Upon our departure to Kent, I had believed that Lizzy would heal and be as she was before. It grieves me more than words can say that Lizzy has not recovered from her wounds, nor does it appear that she will._  
 _Above five days ago, Lizzy contracted a most unyielding fever. Though it was not high to cause great concern, I watched over her most dutifully and made every attempt to break her fever. However, it only seemed to grow worse. Lizzy's nights became fitful and little sleep was to be had. Often her nights were spent in fevered fight higher than in the daylight hours. This morning, I was awaken to find that Lizzy had fallen asleep, only to soon learn that could not be roused. I have found her fever to be higher than ever and unable to break it by all means that I have. I now have ample means to believe that her wounds caused during the fall of Hingham Bridge have caused this fever, but I do not have the means of treating such a fever._  
 _We have sent for the physician several times, but of yet he has not returned to tend to Lizzy. There is speculation that he has fallen pray to the undead._  
 _I am aware of the conflict between yourself and my sister, though of the nature of the conflict I am ignorant, and if it had been in my power I would have spared you the discomfort this missive will undoubtedly have caused her. Indeed had it not been for your sister, Miss Darcy, I would not have written at all. If there is anything that can be done to save my dear sister, I beg of you to help us. I fear the loss of my sister will cause a wound that will be the death of my entire family._  
 _Signed,_  
 _Jane Bennet_

Darcy read and reread the missive again and again until the words and ink blended together and he new its contents word for word. Yet his mind was confused. By all accounts, Elizabeth should have recovered. A slight fever was easily dealt with, especially when under the care of her elder sister. There was no reason why her condition should worsen. Darcy had no skills at healing, indeed he was more accustomed to ending the existence of the undead than preserving the injured. At most, the aid he could ensure was that Elizabeth did not rise to serve the devil. but even the thought was one which Darcy could not contemplate. Could he be of any aid to the Bennet family?  
"Darcy!" called Bingley, approaching him the camp. He quickly took in the state of his friends countenance. "You look like you' ve just received some devastating news."  
"indeed I have." Darcy folded the missive and met his friends eyes. "Have you packed for our journey?"  
Bingley appeared rather confused. "I have."  
Darcy nodded. "Then we depart today. We must ride for Rosing's immediately." He moved swiftly toward the encampment.  
Bingley followed behind him. "Darcy, you're not make much sense. HAs something happened?"  
Darcy paused in his steps. He closed his eyes and concentrated. He needed to think rationally, and that included allowing Bingley in on what had happened. "Yes. Something has happened." He extended the letter to Bingley ,who cautiously took it from his friend.  
Bingley's quick examination returned his attention to Darcy. "Miss Bennet?"  
Darcy nodded. "She's asked for my help."  
Bingley took that moment to read over the missive for himself. For a moment, they stood in silence as Bingley learned for himself what had occurred at Rosing's. He lifted his eyes to Darcy. "What do you intend to do?"  
"Provide whatever aid that I can." replied Darcy. He continued on his march through the camp toward his horse.  
Darcy was soon reminded of Bingley's hidden strength. Though he had not forgotten the blow that was dealt him by his friend, he was soon halted by Bingley's hand upon his arm. He looked back toward Bingley and saw an expression that Darcy could not decipher for himself. Bingley spoke calmly, thought Darcy could not understand how the man felt as such. "I was under the impression that you did not care for Miss Elizabeth. Now you plan to ride for Rosing's two days prior to our departure to help. How long ago did your feeling toward Miss Elizabeth change?"  
Darcy was silenced by Bingley's question. In truth, he could not fix the time nor place where he fell under her influence. Regardless of her rejection, his feelings for her had not changed. He knew his feelings had spurred him into risking his life on the bridge without a second thought. "They changed long before I realized them, Bingley. I do not know what aid I can give, but I feel I must try."  
"And if God forbid, Miss Elizabeth is too far gone?" inquired Bingley.  
"Then I will ensure she passes with the dignity a warrior lady of gentle birth deserved." stated Darcy. He ripped his arm free from Bingley's grasp. He could not fault his friends logic. Indeed, he was indebted to Bingley for voicing the concerns which Darcy himself could not bring himself to dwell on.  
The gentlemen strode toward the stables, where their horses awaited them. Without a thought for their belongings, the men mounted their horses and broke out of the encampment at a wild pace. Darcy led the way. Though his horse was a fine gelding of great speed, Darcy felt as though he were mounted on an elder mare. The trip to Kent could not pass quick enough for his liking. As Bingley rode several paces behind his friend, he said a silent prayer that Miss Elizabeth had the strength to remain amongst the living until they arrived at Rosing's. He feared greatly for Darcy if she could not.


	5. Chapter 5

Darcy had tempted fate once before, now it seemed that fate was seeking vengeance upon at every turn. From the moment of their departure fate had intervened at all ends. The weather had turned foul mere hours after their departure, forcing the gentlemen to slow their travels to an agonizing pace. The miles traveled in good weather were cut by a quarters, extending their trip longer than they'd hoped. After taking shelter in an Inn, their journeys were detained once more, this time by a ravenous horde recently arisen from the wet earth. Precious time was used in slaughtering all the unmentionables before their journey could continued. They managed some miles before they were forced to settle once more for the night. A mere day and a half journey turned into four agonizing days. Never had Darcy felt such relief as he stared at the impeding structure of Rosing's Park.  
The Black Guardsmen of his aunt saw to their horses and lowered the gate. Darcy and Bingley rose from the ground into the safety of Rosing's raised structure. They journeyed through the immaculately decorated halls, all of which praised the grand occupant within its walls. Darcy had often noted with distain, how his aunt had hardly participated in further irradiation of the undead. Rather, she continued to thrive on her one time glory in battle. He could not doubt her skills, but he also knew one must exercise ones skills or they go to waste.  
"How do you wish to proceed?" inquired Bingley.  
"I must deliver my report to Lady Catherine first." informed Darcy. "From there I can discretely inquire after Miss Elizabeth. I suggest you remain out of sight."  
Bingley nodded in agreement and remained within the hall as Darcy ventured further. He was quickly announced prior to his entrance. Decry found himself the sole male amongst the throne rooms occupants. As he had years before, Darcy felt himself entering a den of lionesses. At the head were two fierce mothers of their own prides, seeking only to improve their cubs future.  
"My favorite nephew, when we heard you'd arisen from the canal we feared you'd joined the ranks of the undead." Lady Catherine was seated on her 'throne'-for lack of a better term. Darcy and his cousin Richard had often remarked about it in their private conversations or recounting of previous visits. Richard often made an attempt at humor, claiming that Lady Catherine seemed to be preparing in the even that London fell to the undead and she became the next ruler over the land. Neither one could refuse the fact that every visit felt like the woman was holding court of her own, with her court seated below her consisting of the younger Miss Bennet's on his left and Bingley's sisters, Mrs. Jenkins, and Anne on his right. And her second at arms to her left sat Mrs. Bennet.  
It pained Darcy to feel the loss of the elder Miss Bennet's presence in the room. And that of his own sister. Though Darcy had not written to her of his arrival, Darcy had expected to see his sister with their aunts guests. What disturbed him more was the lack of blatant worry for the missing elder sisters. Though Darcy prayed it meant that Miss Elizabeth was on the mend, he could not omit the families blatant disregard for the safety of their own family. Miss Jane Bennet's illness was proof of that. Neither her mother, nor sisters could be made fearful enough to hold looks of concern or distress upon their faces.  
Lady Catherine sat up straighter. "Any news from the canal?"  
"It's holding for the time being." informed Darcy.  
A chorus of excited giggles burst through the room. The younger Miss Bennet's quickly dismissed themselves from their weapons and rushed themselves out of the throne room. Bingley's sisters followed next. Then followed his cousin and her companion, before his own aunt departed.  
"Aunt Catherine, where might I find my sister?" Darcy inquired.  
"Indeed your sister is currently tending to Miss Elizabeth Bennet." replied Lady Catherine, as though the very thought of the action disgusted her. "I informed her the servants and her own family would suffice, but she was adamant."  
Darcy kept his reply short. "I see. I had best see to her then."  
Lady Catherine nodded. "Indeed. I am quite distressed at having her here while the Bennet's reside as well. They made have some skill in the deathly arts, but their manners are excessively lacking."  
"Indeed." nodded Darcy. He made his excuses and departed his aunts presence before she could further debase the Bennet's. They had their faults, as did all men, but he could no longer debase them. Darcy quickly quitted the room and soon found Bingley further down the hall. Darcy quickened his pace and soon discovered that Bingley's attention had been drawn by a welcoming face.  
"Fitzwilliam!" exclaimed Georgiana. She make short work of the distance between them and soon found herself in his welcoming embrace.  
Darcy welcomed his sister presence. He had not wished to remove her from Pemberly, but he could not longer guarantee her safety at their home. She was greatly skilled, but he would not risk her life. "How are you?"  
"I am well." Georgiana lifted her eyes to meet his. "Pray, tell me you received our missive? For we received no reply and feared that-"  
Darcy quickly soothed his sister. "I did. We departed the day we received you letter, but we greatly delayed. Aunt Catherine informed me that you have been tending to Miss Bennet?"  
"Yes, I have." Georgiana nodded in reply and appeared to pose nothing to infer she regretted her actions. For that, Darcy could not be more proud of her actions. She turned and began leading the gentlemen up the stairs. "I have been helping Miss Jane in tending to Miss Elizabeth from the second day of their arrival."  
"How is Miss Elizabeth?" inquired Bingley.  
Georgiana heaved a great sigh. "She is very ill, Mr. Bingley. We had hoped that she would be strong enough for her condition to improve, but has not."  
"Her fever?"  
"It's had steadily risen for the past week."  
Georgiana led them through the halls of Rosing's toward Elizabeth's chambers. Darcy noticed along the way, that his aunt had placed Elizabeth in one of the further rooms. The rooms were less decorated, less maintained, meant for those his aunt didn't much care for. "Lady Catherine placed the Bennet family in this wing. My own chambers are quite a distance from here. I suspect your own will be as well."  
"Of that, I have no doubt." agreed Darcy.  
Georgiana came to a stop midway along the hall. She lifted her hand and gave a gently rap upon the door before easing it open. "Mr. Bennet, Miss Jane." Georgiana entered the room, leaving the door open for her brother and friend to enter behind her.  
The gentlemen entered quickly, closing the door behind them. They could not risk any of the servants see them in this far wing of the house when their chambers were situated elsewhere. As Darcy had surmised, the rooms décor drastically differed from the remainder of the estate. The furnishing was adequate, but not of the best quality, as other rooms were, useful for their purpose, but hardly acceptable for long duration. The fire was barely above a flicker. Darcy found Mr. Bennet situated in one of the chairs across the room, situated along the bed. Jane Bennet had situated herself along the edge of the bed. His eyes quickly fell upon her patient, whom was in complete ignorance of their presence.  
In all his years, Darcy had not once been witness to such a state. He had seen men eaten alive, watched men fall to the plague, witnessed his own failure resulting in a households slaughter, yet none had racked him such as this sight. Elizabeth was in a very poor state. Her skin, that once held a flush glow of energy, strength, and whit, had shriveled into a haunting pale shade of white. Her hair lay alongside her face, matted down by the sweat her body emitted I its fevered state. Forgetting himself, Darcy approached the bedside. His hand came to her face, brushing several fixed strands of hair away. Her skin radiated with heat, alighting his concern. He looked to her bandaged hands. Darcy carefully removed one of the bandages and paused only when the cloth would not easily remove itself from her wound. The sight sickened Darcy. The flesh was inflamed, red, and a sick yellow color. Elizabeth flinched under his ministration and made an attempt to extract her hand from his. Darcy easily allowed her the reprieve from his inspection.  
"When did the physician last visit?" inquired Darcy, his eyes remaining upon Elizabeth.  
"The previous physician was your regiment surgeon." informed Mr. Bennet, now standing from his chair.  
Darcy's gaze lifted from Elizabeth to meet her fathers. The man seemed to have aged more years than when Darcy last saw the man. but there was also anger in him, that Darcy could see and knew it well. "Truly?"  
Mr. Bennet nodded in response. "Have you anyone to call?"  
Darcy shook his head. "I fear the wait will waste what time we have left."  
"Can anything be done?" inquired Jane, voicing herself for the first time since their entrance.  
Darcy nodded slowly, forming his course of action. "There may be." His eyes drew back to Mr. Bennet. "But it will hardly be pleasant for her and it may not work."  
"But it is a chance for her to live." replied Mr. Bennet. "What will be needed?"  
"Much." informed Darcy. "Georgiana, go to the kitchen and request a pot for boiling water. Request rags that we might use for fresh dressings. Charles, request a bottle of strong spirits. And we shall need a candle as well."  
Georgiana gave a small nod of her head and hurried out into the hall with Bingley quickly following behind her.  
Jane rose from her seat upon the bed. "You plan to reopen her wounds."  
Darcy nodded. "I do. I believe that if we reopen the wounds and keep them clean, your sister may have a chance."  
Mr. Bennet eyed Mr. Darcy closely. "Mr. Darcy, might I speak with you for a moment, in private?"  
Darcy accepted MR. Bennet's offer and followed the gentleman out into the hall. Mr. Bennet said nothing as they stepped into the hall and closed the door behind them. The two men stood silent on opposite sides of the hall. Nothing could be heard around, no laughter, no running steps, not even a servant moving about the halls.  
"You've taken a particular interest in my daughter's health, Mr. Darcy." began Mr. Bennet. "How came you by this knowledge of Lizzy's condition?"  
It had not occurred to Darcy, until that moment, that her father was ignorant of Darcy's involvement. "I received a letter from my sister and Miss Bennet asking for my help. If i had any to give to Miss Elizabeth."  
"Do you often take interest in the well being of young ladies with whom you insult?" inquired Mr. Bennet. "Particularly when your course of healing breaks the boundaries of propriety?"  
Darcy felt his aggravation rise. His hands balled into tight fists that did not go unnoticed by Mr. Bennet. He could not fault the father's words, not after Darcy's abominable display during his first visit. But the man was wasting time, time that Elizabeth might not have. "In this situation, sir, my only concern is the improving health of you daughter. Propriety and boundaries be damned, I came here for the sole purpose of doing what I can to help her. I make no notion to act in a way that will cause her ruin, only that which will save her life. However, if you are more concerned over her reputation than her life, then you are free to banish me from helping her. If not, you can be assured that neither Bingley, nor my sister, would dare utter a word of what may transpire in the next few minutes in her room."  
Mr. Bennet looked at Darcy for a long moment. It reminded Darcy of opponents sizing one another up, foretelling which of whom would come out the victor. Both gentlemen stood their ground as time passed. Darcy feared that neither of them would surrender, and should that happen there would be no victor, only deceased.  
Their war of glares was came to an end only by the return of Mr. Bingley and Miss Darcie. Bingley carried a pot and a bottle of spirits, one that Darcy was familiar with as being one of the best his Aunt could afford. Georgiana's arms were filled with old cloths that could be boiled and used for fresh bandages. Bingley seemed ignorant to the going on's of his friend and Mr. Bennet, but Georgiana was more perceptive. She arched her brow in concern, but Darcy bade her to continue on. Once both were within the walls of Elizabeth's chamber, Mr. Bennet and Darcy continued their dispute.  
"Mr. Bennet, I'll ask but once and then be silent on the matter." informed Darcy. "Please allow me to help Miss Elizabeth."  
Mr. Bennet seemed taken aback by Darcy's request. He had known Darcy to be a commanding man, given his military career, used to giving orders rather than receiving them. Indeed the display in his daughters chambers further affirmed Mr. Bennet's opinion. But now to have the young man bare it all, to have risked his own life in rescuing Elizabeth from the canal, to risk his reputation yet give all attempts to spare Elizabeth's, to journey for the single purpose for Elizabeth, and to ask permission to help her, Mr. Bennet found that there was a great deal more to Mr. Darcy's character than had been let on. Mr. Bennet nodded. "Your help would be welcomed, Mr. Darcy."  
Though his face revealed nothing, Mr. Bennet could see the ease of tension within the young man's frame. The two gentlemen returned to the bedchambers, greeted by the three occupants. Georgiana sent a questioning look in her brothers direction, but Darcy quelled her with a simple shake of his head. It was no use to worry her over an ended matter.  
"We have the water on to boil." informed Bingley.  
"Georgiana, cut the cloths into suitable bandages and place them in the water." stated Darcy.  
Georgian nodded and scurried off toward the fireplace.  
"What must be done next?" inquired Bingley.  
Darcy looked to Mr. Bennet. The gentleman was head of his family and for their well being. Darcy was merely allowed to provide aid. However, Mr. Bennet nodded to Darcy, allowing the young gentleman to assume command of the situation. "First we will have to remove the soiled rags from her wounds before we can clean them. In there alone lies an issue. Miss Elizabeth is not aware of the world around her, but she is aware of what can cause her pain. Merely inspecting her wound caused her to pull away."  
"Even in her weakened state, my Lizzy's strength cannot be underestimated." stated Mr. Bennet.  
"We must hold her down?" inquired Jane.  
Darcy nodded slowly. "We cannot risk more injuries to her than necessary. I believe it will take all of us to accomplish this."  
"Very well, Mr. Darcy." spoke Mr. Bennet. "Let us begin."  
They took to work quickly. As Jane tended to the wounds, the gentlemen did what they could to keep Elizabeth still. The task was far more difficult than they had originally thought. Even unconscious, Elizabeth was a for to be reckoned with. Had he not been on the receiving end of her wild strike, Darcy would admire the knowledge more.  
Jane took to her task with as much care as she could. Using Darcy's knife, she cut the soiled bandages from her sisters wounds. She then turned to the infected wounds, where caused another bout of a fight from her sister. Reopening the wounds managed to illicit a violent response from her sister, which resulted in Mr. Bennet and Mr. Darcy both stumbling to the floor. Mr. Bingley acted in quick response and drew Jane back, just prior to Elizabeth striking out in her direction. Still they pressed on. Once the wounds had been opened, the task of cleaning them began. It was quite possibly the most dangerous of the tasks. pouring the bitter liquid into her open wounds caused Lizzy to struggle and even cry out in pain. Though the sight was heart wrenching to all, they could not put to rest their tasks until they were finished.  
For hours they toiled until their task was complete. Each wound reopened, each stich removed from the skin, every wound doused, and rebadged. Each one of them, emotionally and physically exhausted from their task.  
Georgiana approached her brothers side, having taken up one of the chairs. She knelt by his side and dabbed one of the last remaining cloths on his bloodied lip. Darcy flinched at the ministration, unaware of the small wound he'd been gifted by Elizabeth during the struggle. He retrieved the cloth from Georgiana and continued to tend to his lip.  
Georgiana rose form her brothers side. "I shall make your excuses this evening, Fitzwilliam, and see that a tray is brought up myself."  
Darcy gave her a grateful smile. "Thank you Georgiana."  
"Jane, I think it best you accompany Miss Darcy this evening." stated Mr. Bennet. "You've been you sisters keeper for some time now, its best you retire to your chambers for a night."  
Jane looked up from her sister. "But papa-"  
Mr. Bennet lifted his hand to silence his daughter. "Lizzy would not wish you to exhaust yourself for her. Tonight, I expect you to rejoin the party. Tomorrow, you may resume your vigil over sister."  
Knowing that she would not be the victor in the argument, Jane conceded to her fathers request. Accompanied by Georgiana and Mr. Bingley, they departed the room some few minutes later, leaving Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bennet alone to tend to Elizabeth.  
"How long will you remain at Rosing's, Mr. Darcy?" inquired Mr. Bennet.  
"Until I am sure of Miss Elizabeth's improving health." replied Darcy. "I will then make my excuses to see to Pemberly and make my departure."  
The knowledge caused Mr. Bennet to arch an interested brow. "You will depart before seeing my daughter well?"  
Darcy gave a curt nodded. "We cannot risk any learning of my part here."  
Mr. Bennet was neither blind, nor ignorant to the further meaning that Darcy withheld, but given the turn of events of the day, and their exhausted state, Mr. Bennet determined to save their discussion for another day.


	6. Chapter 6

The first night of him spending within Elizabeth's chamber, was spent in small passing conversation with Mr. Bennet. Darcy found the gentlemen to be well read and a skilled warrior. He quickly discovered that Elizabeth had inherited her fathers love of books and disposition in the art of war. The each gentleman came from a different background of training, each one could respect the others opinion of their arts. Their conversations came to a halt as night hours ticked by and both gentlemen drifted off to sleep. During the course of his journey, Darcy had slept ill, and though he found himself able to drift off with ease, he often awoke during the night to check on Elizabeth's state, ensuring her wounds were kept clean, her bandages changed often, and a cool cloth to keep her fever down.  
The days that passed were far from different for Mr. Darcy. Though his partner often altered between Mr. Bennet, Miss Jane, and his sister, Darcy was a constant in Elizabeth's room. His time with Miss Jane often coincided with his sisters time, allowing him to view Miss Bennet's character with his sister. He found he was more than pleased that the two got along so well and often wondered if Georgiana had the opportunity to get along as well with Elizabeth.  
One particular day brought Georgiana with a tray. Mr. Bennet and her brother had spent their time with Elizabeth. Since his visit, Georgiana had made his excuses of fatigue and business to prevent her aunt from discovering the truth. Georgiana entered the room with a brief knock. She turned the handle and entered the room. She was quickly greeted with a smile from Mr. Bennet. Before she could speak, Mr. Bennet gestured for her to be silent and made a motion across the room.  
Georgiana looked and found herself unable to resist a small smile. Her brother, though fervent in his vigil, had succumbed to sleep, his half finished book still pressed against his chest. Quietly, Georgiana set the tray down. "How long has it been since he last slept?"  
"He slept a quarter of an hour before noon today." informed Mr. Bennet. "I suspect he kept his vigilant watch during the night hours again. The young man will wear himself out before Elizabeth wakes."  
Georgiana hummed in acknowledgement. She fetched an unused blanket from the truck, one that was often used during the night, and gently draped it over her brother. "He worries for Miss Elizabeth."  
Mr. Bennet nodded. "So he does."  
It was above an hour when Darcy awoke again. He quickly discovered the blanket over himself and found his sister in Mr. Bennet's place, embroidering. Darcy drew the blanket from his body and rose from his chair. His body was stiff from his constant sitting and disuse. He walked to Georgiana's chair and placed a kiss upon her head. "Thank you." He continued to the basin and proceeded to wash his face.  
"How fairs Miss Elizabeth?" spoke Georgiana.  
Darcy dried his face and hands before returning to his seat. "Her fever has not risen higher." Though that was not the best of news, having her fever remain at it current level was not the worst. He looked down at Elizabeth's sleeping face. She looked so much at peace, ignorant to the worries of her family. She looked far improved from his first sighting. In fact, she looked remarkably well. Reaching out, Darcy removed the cloth, which was in need of changing, and let his hand lay upon her forehead. No longer did immense heat radiate off her skin. He drew his attention to her wounds and carefully unwrapped one of her hands. The skin was no longer inflamed and sickly.  
"Fitzwilliam?" asked Georgiana.  
Darcy looked to his sister. "Her fever has broken."  
A bright smile emerged from Georgiana. "Truly?"  
"You had best send for her family. I suspect she will awake soon." His relief was short lived. If her fever had broken, the chances of Elizabeth waking were greater. Darcy could not risk her waking to find him in her room. Darcy straightened from the bedside. He gathered his coat, long discarded during his first night, and book. He could not leave any hint at his presence in this room.  
"Brother?" questioned Georgiana.  
Darcy met his sisters uncertain gaze. "I must depart. No must know of my part in helping Miss Bennet. Not even Miss Bennet."  
"Is that not fair to you?" questioned Georgiana.  
Darcy departed the room before Georgiana could question him further. Georgiana knew if his attachment to Elizabeth Bennet, and Darcy was aware of Georgiana's approval of the lady. however, Darcy had not revealed to his sister of his disastrous proposal in Hunsford some months back. Nor would she be made privy to such knowledge. When the time was right, Darcy would inform his sister that the attachment was nothing more than an infatuation, one that he would easily recover from. Though he doubted that his sister would believe such a statement. She was a clever young lady. But it was best to keep her from the bitterness that was Darcy's failing in securing his own happiness. He moved through the halls, knowing each turn by heart until he reached his own chambers. Not once since his arrival had he stepped into them, but now he did. For one night, he would sleep in his bed and not in the chair.  
Darcy seated himself on the bed. His body was exhausted, his emotions drained. Yet he could not deny the gladness he felt. How could he refuse the swelling gladness knowing that Elizabeth would live. She would wake and grow strong. Her whit would strike with such fury and her sword would soon follow. She would return home to Longbourn and protect the people of Meryton. And she would, undoubtedly, marry.  
Drained of his control, Darcy allowed the tears to fall. There was no strength left in him to hold them at bay any longer. His clenched one fist while the other hand roamed through his hair. The tears fell silently to the floor. Each one filled with the emotions Darcy had bottled within himself for far too long. The sting of rejection. The admiration of witnessing her skills. The pleasure of seeing her in the In-Between. The relief of hearing her breathing. The fear of witnessing her plummet into the canal. The fear of death taking her. Each one fell from his drained body until exhaustion overtook him.

* * *

The following morning, found Mr. Darcy in an unmistakable ill-humor. Though he had slept a great deal more than he had throughout his stay at Rosing's, he found it impossible to lift his spirits. Now that he was certain of Elizabeth's Bennet's survival, he had to depart Rosin's, that day. The longer he remained whilst she recovered, the greater the risk became of her catching hint that he had been within her chambers. though he had sworn his secrecy to her father, and all that were present swore the same, if Elizabeth leaned the truth, she would feel herself bound to him. And though nothing would give Darcy more pleasure than have her hand, he would sooner die than force into such an agreement when she wanted nothing to do with him. No, it was best to do the honorable thing for the both and depart. He could live himself knowing that she would survive and return to protect her home in Longbourn and the people of Meryton. It was there that caused his ill-humor. He would not be privileged to witness her again. He was to bow out of her life silently and not dwell on her again.  
Perhaps it was his ill-humor that fueled his motions that day. As the hour of his departure arrived, Darcy found himself journeying through the halls of the estate one final time, making his way toward the stables. He had had numerous missives from his steward. Upon his arrival, Darcy had every reason to believe he would have very little time to dwell on anything but ensuring Pemberly's further safety. So full were his thoughts, that Darcy remained unaware of his aunt's presence behind him, until she was upon him.  
"Nephew!" called Lady Catherine.  
Darcy's steps ceased quickly and turned his body toward his aunt. He was surprised to find her so close without his knowledge of her approached. He mentally berated his distracted mind. Had his aunt been an undead, he may have lost his life.  
"You have been quire scarce during your stay at Rosing's." noted she.  
Darcy gave a curt nod. "My apologies aunt. I had not expected the magnitude of fatigue that consumed me."  
Lady Catherine arched one of her brows as she stared at her nephew. "Is it fatigue that has kept you away, or the lure of a bed bound young lady?"  
Darcy felt his eyes narrow at her words, but he would give nothing.  
"A report of an alarming nature as reached me." began his aunt. "That during the duration of your stay, you have occupied Miss Bennet's chambers."  
Darcy remained stiff through his response. "Miss Bennet's was declining. I sought to improve her health."  
"An unmarried man in the chambers of an unmarried woman within the walls of my own estate." spat Catherine. Her voice raised to a higher volume. Her temper threatened to unleash its full force on him, which Darcy did not fear. His own could match hers. "And my own nephew, no less. Have you such little regard of propriety that is due in society, or the dishonor you have put upon all of us? By your unnecessary impulsive actions, you have entangled yourself to that trollop!"  
Darcy jet his jaw, clenching his teeth. Though he wished nothing more than to put his aunts opinions to rest, it would do no one any good to lose his temper. It could possibly do worse for the Bennet's. "There was proper chaperones-"  
"Chaperones!" cried Lady Catherine. "Chaperones! Have you taken leave of your senses, nephew? Those people could easily throw you to the fire of impropriety and demand to do the honorable things by marry that little chit."  
"I'll ask you to mind your words, aunt." stated Darcy, though his tempter was rising dangerously high.  
His aunt, however, did not heed his words. She began pacing about the hallway, no longer caring how her voice raised throughout the walls. "To act in such a disreputable way not only blackens your name, but will no doubt drag Anne's name down with it. Your actions will have drastic repercussions in combination of your lack of action to your family duty! You have endangered your own reputation for this pretentious upstart of a girl. One who is far less than your own equal, so far below your own sphere.""  
"The family is highly respectable and of genteel rank." replied Darcy. "I'll ask once more, to mind your words."  
That statement took notice by his aunt. She ceased her pacing and turned toward him. Her remaining eye narrowed on him. "So it is true. You've fallen for her arts and allurements." She strode toward him until there was little space between them. You've given in to a pretty face and skills that are hardly suitable for your own good. You are so taken that she has made you forget what you own to your family."  
His anger finally reached his breaking point. Taking his sword from its sheath, Darcy lifted the blade toward his Aunt. An act which was considered to act against England. Lady's Catherine's eye grew wide in astonishment. "Tell me, Lady Catherine, do we speak of the same woman in our conversation. Is not Elizabeth Bennet, the very same young lady who bested your proxy Wilhelm? A warrior skilled my the Chinese deadly arts, bested one of your finest men, without a weapon to be had."  
Lady Catherine was silent.  
"I am aware of your visit to Longbourn, Aunt. As am I aware of the reason behind it." stated Darcy.  
"Then you know I went for the sole purpose of defending your honor." claimed Lady Catherine. "Honor that you seem to be pleased to toss into the gutters for the sake of a country chit of a girl, than to do you family duty and marry Anne."  
Darcy sheathed his katana and stalked down the hall. He needn't glance back to know his aunt was following him. "Let me be rightly understood, whatever fantasy you have pertaining to myself and Anne are nothing more than that. When I chose to marry, it will be by my choice, not that of yours."  
"You cannot ignore your duty forever, nephew!" informed Lady Catherine. "For too long you have done just that. your duty to the crown not with standing, they could hardly do anything without you, but the canal now holds firm you cannot refuse any longer. You cannot deny the duty to your estate and to your own sister-"  
"And you believe that Anne is capable of that?" demanded Darcy, ceasing his steps and turning to his aunt again. "My cousin, who can hardly maintain a hold of a rifle, defend the grounds of my home and defend the life of my sister."  
"This matter was the greatest wish of your mother-"  
"Enough!" demanded Darcy, raising his hand to silence her. "I will say this but once, should you ever assert yourself into my affairs, I will sever all ties to you. And what hope will your daughter have then?"  
Lady Catherine's face quickly reddened with rage. "You wouldn't dare!"  
"You have insulted the name of a respectable young woman and attempted to manipulate my affairs for the future." stated Darcy. "And I will have no more. Know your boundaries, aunt, or you will no family connections to fall back on."  
Lady Catherine sternly glared at her nephew. "When you have come to your senses, nephew, do not expect a gracious welcome."  
Darcy said nothing more to his aunt as he turned from her. He strode through the hall with more determination then he ever felt possible. If he had not been set of departing for Elizabeth's sake, then he certainly felt to do so for his own. He had ignored his aunt's fantasy to linger long enough and now he faced with the turmoil of what her wishes had brought about. In a way, he wondered if this was what crossed Mr. Bennet's mind when he ignored to properly address his younger daughters in their behavior. Perhaps the gentlemen were not unlike after all. They both Elizabeth's best interest at heart.


	7. Chapter 7

To the great relief of all who resided within its halls, Longbourn had not only endured by survived the threat of a horde of ravenous undead. There was no damage to the homes of Meryton, no lives lost to serve Satan in his army, nothing to even hint at dreadful happenings. And yet, not all was well. The household seemed well enough, Mr. Bennet noted with great concern that Lizzy was all well. Though her health had returned, she was not herself. She had not taken her restricted training limitations well, but hardly had the strength to defend her claim. That alone caused Mr. Bennet some concern. She had relented far too easily. Without training to fall back on, Lizzy seemed to spend her remaining time alone.  
His daughters were all present before him in the sitting room, polishing their muskets, and maintaining their dependability. Each one of his warriors worked with great skill and determination, save for Lizzy. She seemed to move as if the world was not but a haze around her. Her moved were monotones, contradicting her very being. She cared for her weapons with as much diligence as before, as much as her healing body allowed, but her very spirit seemed to have been dulled.  
Regrettably, Mr. Bennet was not the only soul who took notice of Lizzy altered state. Far across the room, Lydia and Kitty frequented looks in their elder sisters direction, conversing to themselves. More concerning was that of their own altered state. Mr. Bennet suspected that her stint with Mr. Wickham had sober Lydia and opened her eyes to her unseemly behavior. It had also made her more observant in her sisters well being. She simply had not the same skills as her elder sisters at observing without being caught.  
It was just so when Lizzy glanced up form her musket and caught her youngest sister watching her closely, only to avert her eyes to Kitty. Lizzy then followed her gaze to Kitty, who soon after lowered her own gaze. A quick sweep of the room revealed that all her sisters were avoiding her, but in very unsubtle ways.  
Irritation and anger swelled within Elizabeth. Since their return, her entire family treated her in an altered fashion. Her father and sisters seemed to treat her as if she were a fragile porcelain doll whilst her mother treated her with more contempt than had ever been endured prior. Each account was strenuous on her nerves and patience.  
With a huff of indifference, that would have easily rivaled that of Caroline Bingley, Elizabeth tossed her cloth to the side and rose form her chair. She hastily quitted the room, earning the astonished expressions of her sisters and a concerned call from her father. But Lizzy paid them no mind. If they would not give reason to her sudden difference of treatment, then she would simply remove herself form their company until they decided to explained themselves.  
She hurried up the stairs, passing her mother, which sent her off on another tirade of how unladylike Elizabeth was, passing the bed chambers and the servant chambers, until she reached the very top of Longbourn. She burst through the door almost as if the very motion brought her freedom. Lizzy found herself beneath the warmth of the sun in the early afternoon hours. She had not acclimated herself to the cooler mornings of Rosing's Park, and relished in the suns glow.  
Without being able to train, the dojo no longer felt like her sanctuary. Papa's study would certainly be the first place they would search for her, followed by her room. The roof would buy her some time to settle her temper. Lizzy wandered across the stone tiles in search of a secluded corner. She found a place beyond one of the servant window valley. Lizzy sank to her knees, minding the twinge of pain in her side, and closed her eyes. She left her mind clear of every thought. All her emotions drifted from her, all her anger, confusion, agitation, and sadness. Soon, the warmth of the sun lulled her deep within her mind.  
 _"She's not improving."_ whispered a familiar voice. Lizzy recognized it as Jane's voice. She could hear the worry in her tone. Lizzy frowned. What had Jane to be worried for?  
 _"Then write to my brother, Miss Bennet."_ came another voice. One Lizzy could not quite place. It was female, young even. Perhaps Lydia or even Kitty's age. But no face came to light Lizzy's mind.  
 _"Do you truly believe your brother will come?"_ inquired Jane. Lizzy could hear the desperation in her voice.  
 _"I do."_  
Lizzy opened her eyes abruptly. Her chest heaved as she fought to control her breathing? She could not explain what she has heard. Jane was below stairs, still attending to her weapons and the second voice was unfamiliar to her. Could she have been remembering her time when ill? Lizzy settled herself once more and closed her eyes. She left her breathing calm and her mind begin to drift.  
For some time there was nothing but the warmth of the sun. Then, almost as if a phantom, a touch ghosted across her face. Lizzy felt herself turn toward the touch but it was no more, rather it moved to her hand. She could hear the sound of cloth unraveling, feel the relief of their confines in her palm.  
 _"When did the physician last visit?"_ inquired the voice Darcy. Lizzy felt her heart quicken. Surly this could not be another of her memories. Mr. Darcy would surely not have seen her at Rosing's. No one had spoken of his visitation coinciding with that of her families.  
 _"The previous physician was your regiment surgeon."_ came her father's voice in reply.  
Again Lizzy's concentration broke. This time, she rose and paced about the roof. Surely not. Surely what she was hearing were not real. Mr. Darcy would have no business in attending Elizabeth at Rosing's Park. He would not risk his reputation for her. Certainly not after the abominable way she had refused him in April. Lizzy could only assume that her mind was merely manipulating her memories, including her feelings of Mr. Darcy.  
She needed to know more. Again, Lizzy settled herself on the roof and closed her eyes. It took longer to calm herself, to clear her mind, but at last she did. She found her mind clear of all thoughts. Lizzy found herself back in her room at Rosing's Park. It was quite, but she sense she was not alone. Her suspicions were confirmed when a hand came across her forehead. She recognized the touch from before; Mr. Darcy!  
 _"Her fever has broken."_ he spoke. Lizzy fought to remain in her state.  
 _"Truly?"_ came a reply. Lizzy recognized the voice from her previous meditation. It was the same young voice that had been speaking with Jane.  
 _"You had best send for her family. I suspect she will awake soon."_ Lizzy sensed something had changed within Darcy's voice. She could hear him hurrying to depart her chambers.  
 _"Brother?"_ Lizzy berated herself for not recognizing the voice of Miss Georgiana Darcy. She truly had not expected, though now she could no longer be surprised, that Miss Darcy had a hand in her care. She had been told of Miss Darcy's residence during their stay at Rosing's, but Lizzy could not recall every meeting the young lady at Rosing's. Her further musings were interrupted by Darcy's next words.  
 _"I must depart. No must know of my part in helping Miss Bennet. Not even Miss Bennet."_  
 _"Is that not fair to you?"_  
Her concentration shattered, bringing Lizzy back to her roof. For some time, Lizzy remained were she knelt, unseeing of her surroundings, lost in her turbulent thoughts. How could it be? She knew Mr. Darcy to be a man whom would never compromise his own honor, not even for herself. Yet something told her otherwise. Elizabeth had come to know Darcy was a great many things. He was a superior warrior and took his duties as Colonel seriously. He had pride, but what man did not. Darcy simply hid what insecurities the man possessed behind his pride. He took great measures in securing those in his care were safe and never dared to breech the laws of propriety. Yet there was more to the gentleman. He cared deeply. She had seen how he cared for his young sister in Pemberly and the shock of seeing herself on the grounds. He had even laid his heart out before her, in hopes of returned affection at one time. Yet even that spat had not prevented him from acting with dignity and grace later on. Had he not welcomed her aid in the In-Between when he had found himself ensnared in the field? Did he not care as to why she had left the safety of her home and family to venture so far into danger? Indeed he had. He had even gone as far to claim that Saint Lazarus had been destroyed, merely to spare her should he fail at retrieving her youngest sister. What more, Darcy had even put his own life at risk rescuing her from the canal. Were they not all actions of a man still in deep admiration- and-dare she hope it- love?  
The further Lizzy let her mind wonder, the more she began to believe what she had relived. Had Darcy still loved her, then could he not break the bounds of propriety? Would he dare commit such acts in the home of his aunt, merely to save her life? If it were true, then why would he not want it known to her? Was he still in the mindset that she would never have him?  
It was no use. Lizzy could not piece together her thoughts- or visions- whatever had plagued her. She had to speak with someone who knew the truth. She had to turn to the one soul who could never lie to her. She had to speak with Jane. Lizzy quickly rose from the ground and hurried back into the house. She had no notion of how much time had passed since she quite the room, until she came to the second floor. Almost immediately she could sense that something in the air had changed.  
Lizzy came down the stairs as Sarah passed by. The poor girl seemed in a hurry, which struck Lizzy as odd. It had been some time since Sarah had been in need of being put into a rush. In fact, the last Lizzy recalled what the night of the ball at Netherfield. Lizzy continued through the house until she found herself near her father's library once more. She could hear the hushed whispers of her younger sisters and her mother. She slowly peered around the corner and found them gathered around the door leading into the dining room. Her mother was pressed up against the wooden door, just as Lizzy suspected her to have done when that odious Collin's proposed to her. Kitty, Lydia, and Mary surrounded her.  
"Oh happy day! to see a daughter so handsomely married off!" gushed Mrs. Bennet. "Five thousand a year!"  
A small smile graced Lizzy's lips. It pleased her to see that Mr. Bingley had come to his senses after all and come to seek Jane's hand. It pleased her to no end to know that her sister would be very happy. After all that had transpired within the past few weeks, Lizzy determined it would not do her mother ill to enjoy the sparse moments of happiness. Though now, Lizzy's task would have to wait. She turned to retreat back up the stairs when her mothers voice wafted toward her.  
"To be sure, Jane's engagement to Mr. Bingley will surely shroud the news of Lizzy's abominable behavior with Mr. Darcy."  
Lizzy's steps halted instantly. What had her mother meant by her words? She drew herself back toward the floor and continued to watch the vents unfold before her.  
"Mama!" exclaimed Lydia. Lizzy was stunned to hear such a chaste tone from her youngest sister. "Lizzy behaved nothing of the sort!"  
Mrs. Bennet merely waved her hand as if doing so would waft away her youngest words. "Oh tush, Lydia. Every servant at Rosing's Park knew of their behavior. Why do you suppose Lady Catherine dismissed us so coarsely. She was utterly displeased at what had occurred on her estate."  
"Mama, Lizzy was properly chaperoned." stated Mary. "Father and Jane saw to it."  
"Had Mr. Darcy not come to aid Lizzy, she surely would not be with us now." commented Kitty.  
But the words of her sisters were of no use. Mrs. Bennet could not be reasoned with. "What I do not understand is what possessed Lizzy into thinking she could tempt a man of Mr. Darcy's standing. She never should have set her sights higher than her own situation."  
"Mama!"  
Unable to keep her own horror back, Lizzy gasped at her mother's harsh words, revealing her presence to her family. Lizzy lifted her gaze to find all eyes were upon her. Lizzy clutched the corner of the wall, nearly digging her nails deep within the wood. It was true. It had happened. Mr. Darcy had been to her at Rosing's Park. He had occupied her chambers while she recovered. Her entire family had known and kept it from her. Moreover, her mother knew. There was doubt in Lizzy's mind that her mother had gossiped about the event to all their neighbors. What reputation Lizzy had was now in tatters because of her mothers loose lips. No matter if she had been chaperoned by her father and sister, there would be nothing that could repair the damage done to Lizzy's future.  
Fury fueled Lizzy's body. She broke away from the stairway, storming toward her father's study. She moved with such force and determination, she disregarded her sisters cries for her. She sought the handle of her father's study and all but threw the door open.  
"How could you-" what words she had meant to use in chastening her father, died with her fury, as soon as she crossed the threshold into her father's study. Her father was seated behind his desk, his arms propped on the sturdy wooden frame. It was the presence of his guest, one that Elizabeth had not been aware, that caused her discomfort. "Mr. Darcy."


End file.
